


The Z List

by chellerrific



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Sibling Rivalry, putting the fun in dysfunctional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time Olympus almost self-destructed because Persephone wanted coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Z List

**Author's Note:**

> My friendly neighborhood beta Phil is responsible for this getting readable as well as a few specific phrases that have become intrinsic to our shared head canon.
> 
> With a special shout-out to my personal favorite Zeus kid, Anya.

Later on, everyone decided it was Persephone’s fault, since she was the one who dragged Dionysus and Apollo to the agora for drinks at Ganymede’s café. She tried to blame it on Apollo, who made her want coffee in the first place by describing the eyes of some nymph he was never going to sleep with as “mocha,” but for once it didn’t stick.

Anyway, she contended, how was it her fault and not Heracles’? He had made the exact same decision at the same time to be in the café then, bragging to Ares and Hebe while she mixed frappuccinos and brewed tisanes. But of course, Persephone already knew the answer, and she had been very recently disabused of any notions that it was a good idea to contest the facts.

“And anyway, it doesn’t really matter,” Heracles was saying, voice carrying over the noisy crowd. “Everybody knows I’m the favorite.”

“Uh-oh,” Persephone and Apollo said. Maybe she should have grabbed the boys and left right then, but why did Herc have to be such a loudmouth? She just wanted a freaking latte.

Dionysus turned slowly, almost mechanically. “Excuse me?” he said.

Heracles rolled a beady eye down to look at Dionysus. “What do you want?”

“It’s, well.” Dionysus gave a low chuckle. “It’s the funniest thing. I could almost swear I heard you say you’re the favorite.”

Heracles drew himself up. It was unnecessary. He already took up the space of several Dionysuses. “You heard right.”

“Oh.” Dionysus hit himself on the forehead. “Duh. My bad. For some reason, I jumped to the conclusion you were talking about favorite child of our esteemed father, Lord Zeus. Now I realize you didn’t say exactly.”

“That is what I meant,” Heracles said.

“Is it now! Silly me, here I thought you might mean something _true_ , like Favorite Meathead or Favorite Person to Avoid at All Costs or Favorite Person to Be Next in Line For the Showers For Everyone’s Sake. No offense on any of those counts, Ares.”

Ares lowered his apple cider. “What?”

There was a scraping sound as Heracles stood, and a hush fell over the café. Hebe whispered something to Iris, who nodded and left immediately.

“Say that again,” Heracles said.

Dionysus looked up at him lazily, visibly unconcerned. “I said, ‘Is it now! Silly me, here I thought—’”

“I heard you the first time.”

Dionysus frowned. “Make up your mind, then.”

“Babe, Gany’s gonna kill me if you trash the café,” Hebe said, leaning over the counter to lay a hand on her husband’s arm.

Heracles continued to stare down at Dionysus for several long seconds, then he abruptly relaxed his posture. “You’re right. Sorry, hon. Not worth the effort anyway.” He waved a hand. “It’s like fighting someone who won’t admit the sky is blue.” He clapped Ares on the back, causing some of his cider to spill. “Come on. I think you owe me a bball rematch.”

“Kick his butt, babe,” Hebe said, blowing him a kiss, which he caught before turning and striding outside, the crowd easily parting for him.

Ares stuck his tongue out at Hebe as he followed after. She responded in kind, and then both men were gone.

Gradually everyone turned back to their drinks and conversation, interest lost now that there was clearly not going to be a fight. Iris returned with Ganymede, who had a serious conversation behind the counter with Hebe. Tyche ordered a scone. It was as if there had been no altercation.

Except, of course, as far as Dionysus was concerned. “ _He’s_ the favorite? On what planet? Using what criteria? Or is it Opposite Wednesday?”

Persephone and Apollo both knew better than to try to involve themselves in this conversation. They sat back and let the rant wash over them.

“I’m asking a serious question. What would make him think he was the favorite? Is it because he was born a mortal demigod but was brought up to Olympus and granted immortality? I suppose it’s true no one else has ever done that. Oh wait!” He snapped his fingers.

“Hey guys,” Ganymede said sweetly, appearing beside their table. “How’s it going? Coffee to your satisfaction?”

“As always,” Apollo said. He and Persephone held up their cups towards him in a salute.

“Awesome. Great, great. Listen, I heard there was a bit of trouble here earlier…”

“It was nothing,” Persephone said quickly. “You know how Herc the Jerk can be.”

“And they say _I’m_ the god of madness,” Dionysus huffed. “I’ve got a better grip on reality than some divine protectors of mankind I could mention but won’t.”

And here Persephone would later maintain it could have ended, but Ganymede had to utter those three little words: “Is he okay?”

“Tch,” Dionysus said. “ _Dorkules_ thinks _he’s_ the favorite child.”

“Oh.” Ganymede paused thoughtfully. “Well, he was near the top, but I don’t recall exactly where.”

“‘The top’?” Apollo echoed.

“Yeah, you know. Of the list.”

There was dead silence at their small table.

“There’s a _list_?” Persephone said.

Ganymede furrowed his brow, then realization dawned on him. “You guys didn’t know. Oh my—please don’t tell Zeus I told you.”

Persephone, Apollo, and Dionysus all exchanged wordless glances.

That, even Persephone admitted later, was the point of no return.

* * *

No one was able to trace the exact route the rumor took later, but that was hardly surprising, given that Persephone, Dionysus, and Apollo were easily three of the least discreet gods on Olympus. Arguably only Hermes would get a piece of gossip out more quickly.

Zeus, who had more children than Aphrodite had pairs of shoes (or was it the other way around?), had organized them by preference into some sort of secret list. Absolutely everybody, even those who were nowhere on such a list, had opinions on what it must say.

“Lord Apollo must be near the top,” Polyhymnia said thoughtfully. “He’s ever so kind, and handsome, and brilliant.”

“Oh yeah? And where must we be?” Thalia asked. “We count, too.”

Cleo tapped her chin in thought. “Would we all be in as one entry, or nine separate? People do tend to group us, after all.”

“Better be nine separate. I’m not having my ranking dragged down by some people,” Erato said.

Almost as one, eight heads turned to look at Melpomene, who was too lost in thought to even notice.

“I bet Lady Athena ranks above even Lord Apollo,” Urania said. “I mean, reasonably, right?”

Nobody else even wanted to dignify her with an answer.

But Athena was a name that came up in related conversations often. Everybody agreed she was a strong candidate for the top spot, maybe even more than Heracles or Dionysus. There was no one Zeus trusted and respected more, with the possible exception of Hera, though many couldn’t agree on who ranked higher between _those_ two, and that spawned a mini-debate of its own.

For her part, Athena stayed out of the whole thing. Or at least that’s what she told anyone she ran into during that time. “It is the most foolish, childish waste of time I can imagine, and I will have none of it. Please leave if that is all you wish to discuss,” or some variation thereof was her typical response. She made it as clear as possible that it was silly and she couldn’t have possibly cared less.

“Me neither,” said Artemis. “This whole thing is stupid, and it’s not like it matters anyway, right? Who cares whether he likes Dionysus or Heracles or you or me the most. It’s stupid.”

“So you said,” Athena muttered without looking up from the book she was leafing through.

“Well it is! Especially since the boys have an unfair advantage. Boys always choose other boys first. It’s a saying they have and everything. I’ve heard my brother say so many times.”

“Hmm,” Athena said.

“Plus it’s not even really a contest. It’s obvious you would be first.”

“That is the only reasonable conclusion, yes.”

There was a pause, and Athena and Artemis met each other’s gazes sheepishly.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Artemis said at last.

“It is a deal,” Athena agreed. “And for what it is worth, based on my research, I have no reservations you are ranked very closely behind me.”

Artemis beamed and took the compliment.

Even the denizens of the Underworld found out that day, thanks to a conversation between their king and his queen up on Olympus. Though it was less a proper conversation and more Persephone ranting and speculating at Hades in rapid, unbroken speech.

“D-darling, please,” Hades said gently, trying to find an opening in which to speak. “Breathe.”

“And, like, no offense to D, but Dad and I get along way better. Like way better. He gets sick of D sometimes. I mean, like we all do. I love him to death and always will, but come on, right?”

“The important thing is you’re always number one on my list, my beloved,” Hades said.

Persephone sighed. “ _Obviously_. I only have like three possible competitors, and I’m the only one you have sex with. I mean I’m assuming.”

“I do not sleep with Thanatos,” Hades said, for the he-didn’t-know-how-many-th time.

“And I look better in a miniskirt either way. Whatever. The point is I’ve got to be way higher than people are giving me credit for, right? Am I on glue that I seem to be the only one who considers this obvious?”

“Well, sweetheart, I have to admit I’m not the best person to ask for insights into my brother’s psyche.”

“That’s not what I’m asking!” Persephone stamped her foot. “It’s not even something you have to _think_ about! It’s just obvious!”

“Right on!” Hecate said, leaning over Hades. “Team Persephone, rockin’ it for three millennia and counting!”

“There you have it, dear,” Hades said, meekly trying to direct Hecate back out of his personal space. “Team Persephone, et cetera.”

Persephone was clearly still not satisfied, but her attention was pulled away just then, and so she reluctantly ended the conversation.

“We will make no mention of the crossed fingers you held behind your back, sir,” Thanatos assured him.

“I can’t _lie_ to my _wife_ ,” Hades said, with obvious guilt.

“And yet you can rank her below a dog,” Hecate said dryly.

Hades shrugged helplessly. “It’s only by a little!”

The truth was that Persephone was already well aware of where she and everyone else stood in the hierarchy compared to Cerberus. Hades had never been able to hide that convincingly. Really, Persephone found his inability to lie one of his hottest and most useful traits, right up there with his unironic capes, his old man stodginess, and how he looked in a pair of black-framed glasses. Unf.

But for now her attention was on her newly-arrived guest. She let Apollo in and, out of habit, offered him something to eat, which he refused politely.

“How is he?” Persephone asked, cutting to the chase.

Apollo folded his arms over his chest. “How do you think? If I have to hear the phrase ‘thigh baby’ one more time I swear to Helios—”

“Kore, is that a guest I hear? Oh.” Demeter stopped short. _Xenia_ prevented her from doing anything worse than smiling politely. “Apollo. Dear. You certainly are… present.”

Apollo stood up and bowed. “Ever as the fields of golden wheat you tend, lush and bountiful,” he said.

Demeter rolled her eyes reflexively, but she was a good Greek girl and did not tell him to cram it with barley as she would have liked. “Yes. Well, Kore. Will we be expecting more?”

“I don’t think so,” Persephone said. “D is in a snit ’cause Herc said he was Dad’s favorite. Of us kids, that is.”

“Oh.” Demeter cocked her head. “Why on earth would anyone give two figs for Zeus’ opinion anyway?”

“It’s not about his opinion, Mom. It’s about whether or not he likes us best!” Persephone said. Even she decided not to think about it afterwards.

“In that case, fret not, my little petal. You’re obviously the only choice.” Demeter kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

“ _Right_? That’s what I said! But D and Herc are sure it’s one of them and won’t hear it. Most everyone else say it’s Athena, except for those who say Artemis. I heard pretty much everyone brought up today, including Ares, and I was like, oh my gods, just stop.” Persephone put her head in her hands.

There was a brief silence before Apollo sat up eagerly. “Hey, do you think it could be me?” he said.

Persephone and Demeter laughed.

Apollo’s enthusiastic smile faded into a look of hurt and annoyance.

The laughter faded along with it, belatedly. “Oh you were serious,” Persephone said. “Uh, well, I guess it’s technically _possible_ …”

His frown deepened. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Polly, come on. Be real.”

Apollo stood. “Why is that so hard to believe? It could be true. I could be the favorite. I’m ever so kind, and handsome, and brilliant. Plus we all know Artemis is up there, and we’re _basically_ the same person.”

“Polly, Dad can’t stand you,” Persephone said bluntly.

“You don’t know that!”

“Yeah, I’m sure all those times he said, ‘Fuck’s sake, I can’t fucking stand Apollo,’ he was speaking metaphorically.”

“Oh yeah, well… how can you be the favorite when you have Hades cooties and bad taste in music! Kesha will never be the voice of this or any generation, Persephone!”

She was too busy being shocked and appalled to say anything to him as he stormed out.

Similar rows were breaking out all over Olympus. Everybody was sure they knew the answer, and the children of Zeus were each taking it all very personally.

Aphrodite and Hephaestus sat together at a table in the agora, a large umbrella shading them from the sun as they watched the chaos around them unfold.

Aphrodite sipped her latte, pinky extended. “I wonder if I should start a rumor that it’s actually me and see how long it takes for people to notice I’m not even a candidate.”

Hephaestus made a sound like a grunt that was also a laugh. It always pleased Aphrodite to draw such unbridled displays of mirth out of him.

“Of course, if we were talking about _grand_ children it would be a different story,” Aphrodite went on. “There’s really only one answer there.”

Hephaestus nodded and said, “Erichthonios,” at the exact same time she said, “Eros.”

There was a brief tense silence before Aphrodite laughed nervously. “Now, dear. I know you’re quite fond of Erich, but surely you don’t think he could surpass someone as skilled and powerful as Eros?”

“He’s Athena’s only child, who begat a great dynasty,” Hephaestus pointed out.

“Okay but,” Aphrodite said delicately, “there is no way your weird oops dirt-baby is anybody’s favorite anything.”

Hephaestus didn’t respond.

Aphrodite was going to have to find something else to do today, in that case. There was no way she was going to see Ares just now. He would expect her to advocate for him, and though she loved him dearly, no.

Speaking of Ares, Eris was the first one to find him and Hebe after they started brawling. Ares had Hebe pasted in brute strength, but she fought dirty, and he found it harder to counter bites, scratches, hair pulls, and kicks to sensitive areas.

“Mom and Dad _both_ like me better!” Hebe said. “It’s so obvious to anybody whose head isn’t filled with rocks!”

“Mom said those make me tougher!” Ares shot back.

“Yeah, she’s just being nice to you ’cause you’re a big crybaby otherwise,” Hebe said.

“Nice to me because she likes me best!”

“Nice to you because she doesn’t want to have to listen to you whine!”

Hera and Iris were finally drawn by the commotion and quickly stepped in to separate them. Ares calmed down when his mother pulled him away, but Iris had to drag Hebe struggling and spitting like an angry cat.

“Why didn’t you stop them?” Hera asked Eris, using a handkerchief to wipe up Ares’ bloody nose.

Eris shrugged and strolled on. She hadn’t had a hand in causing any of this, unfortunately, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything to _stop_ it. She already knew she was nobody’s favorite.

* * *

Of course, everybody wanted to know what one god thought about this more than anyone else. Unfortunately, as soon as he saw how quickly the situation was deteriorating, Zeus locked himself in his office, ordering Hermes not to let anyone in. As a result, Hermes ended up bearing the brunt of the chaos, answering calls and fending off visitors. He hated desk work more than anything and he very quickly became bitter and spiteful. What happened next was the only possible outcome, really.

“Hello, you’ve reached the office of Lord Zeus. Please listen carefully as your question may be answered by this recording. If you’re trying to get in touch with him right now, he is sadly unavailable until further notice due to a severe rash in an unfortunate place. But you’re probably calling with inquiries about a certain mythical ‘list.’ Lord Zeus denies the existence of such a list, but if it did exist, which it doesn’t, a portion of it would read as follows: Number five, Britomartis. Number four, Richard Nixon. Number three, the Muse with the big front teeth. Number two, Tantalus. Number one, Hermes. All decisions are final. Sorry if you didn’t make the cut. Maybe you’re number six! Number six is Apollo, by the way.”

The door to Zeus’ office flew open, but all Zeus found waiting for him was an empty desk chair still warm and spinning from the kinetic energy left by its fleeing occupant. Zeus quickly deleted the greeting, but the damage was done. He was flooded with messages scandalized by the inclusion of such a heinous criminal, and people weren’t very happy about Tantalus either. Nobody seemed to know who Britomartis was, and at least three Muses were absolutely certain they had the biggest front teeth. Worst of all was Apollo, who spent hours outside the office door and windows, knocking and calling, “Is it true? Z-Diddy? You like me! You really like me! I always knew it! Right? Right? I have something for that rash, by the way! Look!”

* * *

It became obvious by day three that this was one problem that would not go away on its own. Dionysus refused to speak to anyone but his mother, his wife having had her privileges revoked when she (correctly) pointed out that he was being ridiculous. Persephone and Apollo were not on speaking terms with one another, and of course that meant that Persephone and Artemis were not speaking either. This was in spite of the fact that the twins had argued with _each other_ and were also not speaking. Artemis didn’t see why that should stop her from taking it upon herself to furiously attack anyone _else_ who made disparaging comments about Apollo. Athena finally picked her up by the collar and dragged her to the library, where she had sequestered herself for the majority of the ordeal. 

Even with Artemis out of the picture, the violence carried on. Ares tried to start a brawl with anyone who so much as looked at him sideways, resulting in more than a few priceless works of art being shattered beyond repair. Heracles had “accidentally” destroyed a statue of Dionysus, who retaliated by sending his maenads after Heracles. More and more property was damaged as quarrelers hurled one another through windows and indiscriminately set things on fire. The agora was a war zone.

Unable to refuse responsibility any longer, Zeus at last descended on the agora. “Enough!” he cried, his voice magically carrying out over all of Olympus. “I don’t know how this got started, and frankly I don’t care.”

(This was a bit of a falsehood, as he did eventually investigate enough to blame Persephone.)

“I am going to say this once and only once: _there is no list_. Got it? I’m not even fucking kidding, if I hear another peep about this again, you’re going to find yourself a smoking pile of ash. Or you would find yourself that way if piles of ash were self-aware. I’d rather not have to make an example of anyone, but I will.”

(This was also a falsehood. There were a few denizens of Olympus he wouldn’t have minded having the excuse to incinerate. He did end up having to make good on this promise a handful of times in the end, mostly on satyrs who still thought they were clever enough to make a few drachmas on counterfeit lists without getting caught, but for the most part everyone behaved.)

“Now. This is going to stop _right this second_. And you are all going clean up this fucking mess immediately. I am going to be so pissed if Poseidon drops by and this place looks like shit.”

(It happened, and Poseidon laughed so hard upon hearing the story Zeus nearly took swift, terrible, and dramatic revenge. Unfortunately he was aware that would somewhat countermand the point he was currently trying to make, so he settled for privately sending his brother a “get well soon” card, the front of which was a reproduction of Zeus’ favorite Rubens painting, _Saturn_.)

“You got me? Because you had all fucking better. Get to work or I start zapping.”

(The effect was as immediate as Zeus had hoped. He really hated having to issue threats and orders, but this was obviously one case that called for an exception. Things had gotten so far out of hand so quickly that extreme measures were his only real recourse.)

“I’m also going to be speaking to some of you little shits personally. I’m starting with Heracles and Dionysus. My office, now.”

* * *

“Urrrgh,” Persephone groaned, tipping her head back and draining the rest of her wine. “I can’t even believe Dad is pinning this on me. Fucking unfair. But I guess if you’re someone he fucks, you get to dodge blame. And of course, Thigh Baby and Zero the Hero outrank me on the Thing That Does Not Exist And Shall Not Be Named, so you’re off the hook too.”

Dionysus tipped his glass towards her in silent cheers.

“Hey,” said Apollo. “I didn’t get blamed either! Do you—”

“No,” said Persephone and Dionysus.

“So what was your punishment? You’re still in one piece, as far as I can tell,” Dionysus observed.

Persephone’s features puckered up like she had bitten right into a lemon. “He fucking told Mom I sneak out at night to see Hades sometimes. Can you believe it? What a dick. I thought we were bros. Bros don’t cockblock. He is off my bro list and on my shit list.”

Apollo and Dionysus both made sympathetic noises.

“Hit me.” Persephone held out her empty wine glass to Dionysus. “Don’t give me that shit. What am I, a baby? Fill it all the way!”

Dionysus sighed but did as instructed. “If only there were a word people could use when they wanted something but still had respect and consideration for the person they were asking.”

“Yeah, if only.”

Apollo produced his ukulele and strummed it. “Persephone, in your honor—”

She sat up, her face lighting up in its first smile in days. “Oh, yes! Please!”

Apollo grinned. “May I present an original Phoebus Apollo composition, all rights reserved et cetera et cetera, ‘The Ballad of Hades and Persephone.’”

Persephone squealed and set down her glass so she could clap in glee.

Another strum and Apollo began to sing. “Flower fair in fields of green, in full bloom eager to be plucked, so goes the tale of Persephone, and how she finally got—”

* * *

“How’s that?” Ganymede asked, his fingertips seeking out the knots in Zeus’ neck and deftly rubbing them away.

Zeus rolled his head to the side and let out a low moan. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Little lower, please. Fuck yes.”

“I’m so sorry for all this stress you’ve had to endure. At least the place is almost back to normal.”

“Yeah. Even the most mediocre spirit can pull some competency out of their ass when I get involved, funnily enough. Oh, say, that reminds me. Speaking of funny stories, Persephone told me one. She said you were the one who first mentioned this list. In fact, Hebe told me a similar story from earlier that day, and about how she then innocently passed this info onto Heracles in your café.”

Ganymede’s hands stilled.

Zeus turned slightly to look up at him. “All right, out with it. What in the name of all that is sacred to me did you think you were playing at? And I want the whole truth, if you don’t mind.”

“It was Hera,” Ganymede blurted out. “She said that it would help you out because it would inspire everyone to work harder to impress you.”

“And you _believed_ her?”

“Er, well, I was maybe a little suspicious, but… but I wanted to help you! I really did!”

“Yeah, and then get laid when I was overcome with gratitude for it.”

Ganymede debated briefly trying to deny it. At length he said, “Did it work?”

Zeus spun around, pinning Ganymede to the mattress with surprising speed. “Yes, but only because I’ve got a lot of stress to work off and I don’t want to give Hera the satisfaction, if you get my meaning.”

Ganymede grinned. “I do.”

Zeus leaned down towards him, but stopped an inch above his face. “Don’t take this as positive reinforcement,” he said firmly. “Don’t fucking listen to Hera ever, you got me? I’m not going to make this fun next time.”

Ganymede arranged his face into a solemn expression. “On my honor as your divine _eromenos_ , I will not let any fun I have this time reflect any potential for similarly-derived future fun.”

“Good,” Zeus said, and then kissed him.

Hera was well aware this victory was pyrrhic in nature, but she accepted it nevertheless.


End file.
